One Night
by BiggMomma5
Summary: O/S  Edward talks Bella into clubbing.  Was it a wise decision?  Strong language.


**(Inspired by many of Enrique Iglesias's songs, and had to use Lady Gaga's disco stick, and also to Snowqueens Icedragon's RROP from MotU)**

**None of these guys and gals belong to me, they belong to Stephenie Meyer. I just had fun with them for one night :)**

**Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I had writing it. It's riddled with mistakes, as it was NOT beta-d.**

Edward begged, "Please? Pretty, pretty please with your hot little cherry on top? I swear I will stop begging for blow jobs (so often)! Just tonight, I need to hit La Club Push! Leah is spinning, and her mixes are fucking hot!"

I rolled my eyes. Automatically, I'm reminded of Ren Hoeck, you know, the crackling sound, ring a bell?

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, my response, "Ok. But I'm holding you to that blow job thing. My lips are numb and I'm tired of Edward flavored lolli!"

"Thank you, Bella! I promise, you will not regret this night!" Kisses my forehead and takes his leave to call Jasper and Emmet.

_Ok, Edward, but I'm not so sure of that one..._

"Bella! So what exactly are your wearing tonight? Do NOT tell me you are wearing jeans! If you do, I will hang you from those fuckers faster than you can say..." Fucking Alice.

"Alice! Psycho, listen! I know you knew we were going to the club the moment Edward said it. You really have a freaky 6th sense. You are aware of what a freak you are, right? Anyway, I decided to let you dress me tonight. Try to keep the clothes resembling clothes. Please. Be over in ten." I slammed my phone shut, put on my ratty old sneakers just because I know how much frump pisses her off. I even throw my hair up into a sloppy ponytail, because I'm feeling the bitch this eve. Grabbing my keys and flinging my backpack over my left shoulder, I tromp off to Alice's version of the Red Room of Pain-what she lovingly calls her "beauty chamber".

This time, it only took a grand total of 4 hours getting me ready to hit the club scene and leave my mark.

I'm dressed in uber clingy skinny black leather hot pants, a barely-there shimmering blue halter top that's being held together by very thin strips of thread. Not going to take much to rip this thing right off of me, no bra. My makeup is killer though. Smokey affect to enhance the brown set of peepers in my face, Hard Candy lip plumper is all my pout needs to look luscious. And of course, because Alice cannot allow me out on a Saturday night sparkle-free, I am covered in glitter. I am terrified to tell you what are on my feet. 7 inch ribbon stilettoes. Sexy as fuck, but damn, I'm not going to survive the inevitable fall.

"So, we are meeting the guys there?" "Yes, Bella. I told Edward and the guys to go on head, and that I would have my work cut out for me to make you look presentable, and I was not lying!" _well fuck you too!_

It's only 10 pm, and the house is packed. Great. I make sure to hug the walls where ever I go so I don't face plant into some server's bosom. Again. Yes folks, thus is why Bella never ventures out into social gatherings such as this.

I grabbed the closest empty table and tried to figure out how the hell I'm going to sit down without a) tearing my pants to shreds, b) being able to breathe, and c) keeping from cutting the circulation to my feet, they are pretty handy and I kind of like them right where they are.

I finally figured out how to sit (sort of) semi-comfortably, and I felt as if I was being watched. I glanced up just in time to see a fierce set of eyes burning a hole into me. The intensity of his gaze was enough to set my happy hole aflame. If that wasn't enough, his toothy grin had made me lose all control of my little honeypot. I wanted him.

I watched him dance. His movements were seductive, animalistic, and very, very fluid. The dirty skank that he was moving with went out of her way to grind into him, begging to ride his disco stick. Mine. That smirk on her face is making me sick. Mine. He's watching me while he's holding her close. Mine. I want to cry. I want to run to him, to feel him grasping me, holding me tight and swaying and bumping to the beat.

Before I can even think, I am on my feet, making my way to him. I don't even need to see him; I can feel his heartbeat above even the booming bass of the music.

The lights all pointed to him, as if he were my beacon in a sea of rolling waves of sweaty bodies gyrating along with the sound, the movement of the mix. He's beckoning me in. I'm drawn to him. He moves away from the club whore, whispers in my ear "I wish I was your lover. I wish that you were mine."

I say "You're acting like you're on your own, but I saw you dancing with a girl. Stop trying to steal my heart away." We begin to dance. Beautifully, rhythmically, as if making love on the dance floor. This feels so right. "Baby, I like it! The way you move on the floor, baby I like it, come on and give me some more. I like how you make me feel. Can I be your man, if only for tonight?"

As I am about to dancegasm, I felt something rip me away from this guy's eyes, away from such a deep connection, back into La Club Push. No. No. No! This cannot be over! It cannot end this way! I want you!

My hands cling tight to his, and he is gone. I was his, but for a moment. He was mine for just as long. Love on the dance floor. Never meant to materialize. Just for a song. He was mine for a beat.

"Edward, it's time to go home. Leah's shit is too hot." After a pregnant pause, I simply state, "We need to do this more often."

WWIII has begun. Between Edward, and my sexy dancer. I love it.


End file.
